


the (boy) in my memories

by eijiology (melancholysnape)



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, First Kiss, Fluff, I just want them to be happy, Light Angst, M/M, ash is also baby, character introspection, eiji is baby, eiji's mom is mvp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:46:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25801552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melancholysnape/pseuds/eijiology
Summary: Ash tugs the arm of his yukata, and Eiji moves his head lower."Next year, let's come back again to see the fireworks."Eiji beams at him, and hooks their pinky fingers together."It's a promise."(Or: The passing of seasons, as seen through the eyes of Eiji Okumura.)
Relationships: Ash Lynx/Okumura Eiji
Comments: 25
Kudos: 124





	1. perhaps it's the cherry blossoms, then

**Author's Note:**

> title is from [jeebanoff's the girl in my memories! he's my absolute fav pls give him a listen <3](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WJqbusfOa3E)

_(a hello.)_

Eiji's mum has forced him into a bright-yellow cotton _yukata_ , and he keeps tugging the sleeves up because they’re just too long.

The pale pink _sakura_ swish in the wind, looking on as he hurries down the winding stone-path. He nearly trips in his haste to turn the corner, and nearly crashes onto the stone cobbling, but manages to right himself just in time.

Eiji skids to a stop when he finally reaches the steps of the bridge that leads up to the park where the townsfolk gather every year to watch the _sakura_ blossom.

He pauses, unsure. 

Eiji did tell his mother that he could go on his own because he was now nine years and seven months old, and he spent weeks convincing his parents that he could be trusted to take care of himself. 

But now that he is here, a pit of anxiety pools in his stomach. Can he really do this? Eiji desperately wants to prove to his parents that he is nearly an adult, but the fear of stepping out on his own for the first time is nearly unbearable. 

  
  


He's almost certain that the next step he takes will have to be in the direction of his house, when he hears a sniffle. Then another, and one more, and suddenly someone is full-out sobbing. 

Eiji turns around, trying to find the person who sounds as pitiful as he feels. He sees a small boy, thin and pale, with hair as golden as the first rays of the sun. The boy is wearing a blue _yukata_ , sash loosely tied. 

He takes a small step forward.

"Are you okay?"

The boy startles, and whips around.

Eiji absently thinks that he's somehow met an angel. His eyes are green like the jades in his mother's ears, and his face, when framed with the shimmery golden hair, is akin to the paintings of angels hung at his grandmother's house. 

The boy blinks once, twice, before his lower lip starts wobbling dangerously again.

Eiji bends over, just enough so that they are at eye level. The boy looks around the same age, if not a year or two younger. Eiji places a palm on his shoulder. 

"What's your name?"

The boy doesn't say a word, but stares Eiji down. 

He continues, trying a different tactic.

"My name's Eiji. What's wrong?"

"... I'm lost."

Oh, so he can speak after all.

"Where did you want to go?"

"I don't know. I was supposed to buy a kite, and I told my dad I could buy it on my own, but now I don't know where to go." he breaks off into another sob again.

Oh dear. 

Even if he's scared himself, and even if he has no idea what to do, the idea of leaving this poor, snivelly boy alone makes an uncomfortable feeling grip his chest. 

"Don't worry. I'll help you find it!" 

The boy blinks, green eyes wide and disbelieving.

Okay, well, maybe Eiji has no idea how to find the shop that sells the kite. But he can't exactly ignore the boy for any longer, so he wracks his brain for a plan. 

"Oh, I know! Why don't we go see if it's up there?" he points up to the platform.

The hustle and bustle of the crows looks even more intimidating from afar, but Eiji will not back down. 

The boy looks indecisive, but then shyly nods once, and Eiji goes to grip his hands. 

"But before that, can I know your name?"

"...Ash."

"Okay, Ash. Let's go find your shop."

He grins at Ash, and tugs the boy up the stairs and into the festival.

The festival is loud and overwhelming, but Eiji does not let go of Ash, both holding hands in a vice-like grip as they twist and duck through the crowd. 

Eiji stops to ask the bunch of grandmothers sitting at the bench next to the riverside about the kite shop. They are pleasantly surprised by his manners, and tug on both of their cheeks, cooing at them before pointing them downstream, to the corner shop. The boys hurridley bow, and scurry over to the kite shop.

It is an explosion of kites of all shapes, colours and sizes, and Eiji's head spins when thrust into this bright and messy place. Ash seems to have no problem, stalking up to the counter and pointing at a butterfly kite hanging on the wall. 

"Excuse me, I'd like that one."

Eiji thinks it's very pretty indeed, with deep purple wings and a green body, and he feels slightly jealous that he won't get to use it.

But then Ash turns around and beams at him, and whatever nasty thoughts that were in Eiji's brain disappear. He thinks that seeing this boy, who was sobbing his heart out just a few hours ago, beaming from ear to ear is reward enough.

Eiji waits until Ash has paid, and then they both step out onto the threshhold of the shop.

"Eiji!"

That's his mother's voice, calling him over to the _takoyaki_ stall next door. They both turn to see that Eiji's parents are standing there, with his sister in tow, talking to a sandy-haired foreigner. Eiji and Ash thank the kite maker once again, and dash to his parents.

Eiji crashes into his mum, hurriedly explaining the day's surprising turn of events. He pauses, turning to introduce Ash to his mother, when he sees that Ash has been scooped up into the foreigner's arms.

"I see you two have already become friends. Well, I guess it's my turn to introduce myself." The foreigner sets Ash on the floor, and crouches down to shake Eiji's hand. 

"I'm Max. We're your new neighbours!"

Eiji flushes, unaccustomed to having adults talk to him, and shakes his hand as well.

His mother laughs, and passes him a skewer of steaming _takoyaki_ to share with Ash. His father tells them to "run along now, come back in time for the fireworks," and Eiji is thrilled. He and Ash run off, mouths stuffed with balls of octopus meat and _teriyaki_ sauce.

They explore the park, lit up with lanterns and festivities. Eiji leads Ash to the grassy field where all the park-goers fly their kites, and to his surprise, Ash thrusts the kite into his hands.

"You fly it first, Eiji!"

His chest swoops, and he giggles, looping the string around the reel before getting Ash to throw the kite up into the air.

The kite soars, twisting and turning in the sea of cloth and paper, and Eiji finds himself being so engrossed that they nearly forget to go back until the people around them start packing up and leaving.

He looks around to see that the sky has considerably darkened, and him and Ash share twin looks of alarm, nearly forgetting the path to the viewing ground as they try to reach before the first firework goes off. 

When they reach, huffing and panting, they see that Eiji's mum has laid out a picnic blanket for them. They're sitting in the middle of the clearing, with an unobstructed view of the night sky; endless and splattered with stars.

Ash and Eiji pile right at the front, and they're just on time because as soon as they sit down, the first firework goes off. Oohs and aahs sound out from the crowd as they tilt their heads upwards to look at them. They are red and green and purple, and it's so exciting that Eiji is nearly vibrating.

Ash tugs the arm of his _yukata_ , and Eiji moves his head lower.

"Next year, let's come back again to see the fireworks."

Eiji beams at him, and hooks their pinky fingers together.

"It's a promise."

  
  



	2. it's not watermelon sugar, it's syrup and preservatives

_(a beginning)_

It’s the peak of summer, Eiji realises, as he’s stuffing his camera into its portable case. He doesn't even need to glance at the calendar on his desk to know that it is indeed close to the summer solstice. After all, it's his 16th birthday the day after next, and every year the sweltering heat has become an expected, if not unwelcome guest. 

Tugging on his case around his neck, he pulls on a baseball cap and exits his room in a flurry. Eiji hollers a goodbye to his mother, who tells him to "be safe, the both of you!", and doubles down the stairs to the patio, where Ash is supposed to be waiting for him.

And he is, clad in a white shirt and blue basketball shorts and looking every part the beautiful foreigner he is. Except when he looks up and grins at Eiji, he says "Getting slow now are we, Eiji?" in perfect Japanese, and Eiji's heart is filled to burst with fondness.

He laughs, and cuffs Ash on the back of his head. Wordlessly, they make their way to the bus stop, then on number 37, the one that takes them to the beach.

(Taking 23 would be much faster, but it's an unspoken agreement between them that the longer the ride is, the better. Ash likes staring out of the window at the passing vehicles, and Eiji likes sitting next to his warmth.)

They get off, flipflops kicking up the sand around them. Eiji's about to turn towards the picnic area, the grassy patch where many other like-minded people have spread out blankets and food, but Ash shakes his head and pulls Eiji along the beach.

"I wanted to show you something." is as much of an explanation as Eiji's going to get. He puffs a breath, blowing his bangs up then down again, and nods. They walk in silence, along the winding beach, until the sun dips lower and lower in the sky. Their hands brush, and Eiji finds himself wishing to grab on to Ash's fingers.

And he does, because nearly ten years of growing up with each other leaves very little space for reservations. Their fingers lock, and Eiji feels a little childish, but still very content as he swings their joined hands up and down.

Ash laughs, breathy and satisfied, and a thrill goes through Eiji as he realises that he is, perhaps, one of the very, very few people who were the reason for Ash’s laughter. 

Ash fishes out a popsicle, the double one that they always get to share. He splits it, mannerisms soaked with the confidence that can only come from doing a certain thing for nearly your whole life. He hands a half to Eiji, stuffing his own into his mouth and crinkling the bright red wrapper into his pocket.

Eiji means to chastise him, scold him for stuffing the wrapper there then forgetting about it until the next time he wears these pants, but he gets distracted. Specifically by Ash's mouth; by his lips, and the fleeting thought of what it might feel like to press his own against them. 

He absently wonders, eyes tracing the bead of condensation that has trickled down Ash's mouth, and then the pink tongue that comes out to lick at the water; if he would taste like watermelon too. 

“Eiji.” Ash’s voice breaks him out of his monologue, and he looks up to his eyes. If Ash finds it odd, he doesn’t bring it up. 

“We’re here.” He kicks off his flipflops and drags Eiji over, to sit with his legs folded and dipping his toes in the ocean. Eiji follows suit and turns his head upwards. 

The view steals his breath away. 

It’s black and clear, the inky waters rippling. The waves push and pull at the shore, the splashing of water as familiar as the lines on Eiji’s palm. There’s a slight breeze, and it gently messes at his fringe. 

Eiji looks out at the ocean, and is struck, for the first time, with the enormity of the world. It should frighten him, but all that he can feel is joyous wonder. The sky looks endless, and the reflection of the moonlight gives it an ethereal glow. 

“It’s beautiful.” The breathiness of his voice surprises him, but Ash doesn’t comment on it. He stays silent, and Eiji quirks his head in confusion. He thinks that Ash is probably too engrossed in the view to hear him, but when he turns his head to look at him, it turns out that Ash is already looking at him.

“Yeah, it is.” 

Eiji can’t help the heat that rises to his cheeks, and bites at his lip to stop his smile from splitting into one that’s as wide as his face. He looks away, back at the sky. A squeeze on his fingers reminds him that his hand is still interlaced with Ash’s, palms meeting in a butterfly kiss. He looks back at Ash, and to his surprise, he's holding a sparkler. 

(Although Eiji is not oblivious to his best friend’s beauty, it still manages to steal his breath away sometimes. Now is one of those times.)

Moonlight streaming down on them as Ash smiles at him. It’s fond, miles away from the sharp grin that is normally associated with him. The black backdrop accentuates the paleness of his skin and hair, and the sparkler is nearly as radiant as Ash himself. 

Eiji's fingers itch for his camera, to capture this moment into something tangible for all of eternity. And capture it he does, reaching for the machine hanging off his neck, and bringing it up to snap a picture. 

He tucks the camera away, back into its case, and when he turns around to face Ash he realises how close they actually are. Ash has his palms flat on the sand, forearms on either side of Eiji's hips. His face is perhaps an inch away from Eiji's, and Eiji stops breathing. 

He doesn't dare let himself look down, to where Ash is biting his lip in contemplation, to where his hands are brushing Eiji's own, to where their thighs bump against each other. Ash takes a deep breath in, as though steeling himself. 

"Eiji, I'm going to give you your birthday present now. Can I?" Not trusting his voice enough to speak, he moves his head up and down a fraction. 

Ash comes impossibly closer, and Eiji's eyes flutter shut. His lips find their way to Eiji's, and the kiss is short and soft, sticky with the artificial watermelon syrup of the popsicle.

It's slightly awkward, as all first kisses are cursed to be, but at the end of it, when Eiji and Ash pull away with flushed cheeks and spit slick lips, he finds that he doesn't mind at all. 

Later that night, long after the rest of the world is asleep, Eiji finds himself pressing his fingertips against his lips again and again. He finds himself questioning whether it even happened or not, mind still reeling from the unexpected turn of events. 

As he unfurls the picture gripped in his hand, to look at Ash and his sparkler against the night sky once again, Eiji is sure that it would be no surprise if his heart's pounding was loud enough to wake the whole neighbourhood. 


	3. dry leaves often come down like tears

_(hey, remember me?)_

As a general rule of thumb, Eiji doesn’t particularly like autumn.

While he appreciates being able to wear his cardigans and cuffed pants, he has to deal with the everlasting muggy weather and the sense of wistfulness that lingers in the air. It’s not overly cold, and by the end of the day Eiji is uncomfortably sweaty under his layers.

To him, autumn has always been rather penultimate, rather like a Thursday, or the tiny shudder that goes through you just before you have a giant sneeze.

However, this year autumn looms, making him irritable and moody. He looks at the dried up leaves and the bundled up scarves and the steam rising from the top of the cup of tea that his mother sets on the table, and he hates it. 

It seems that his melancholy is obvious, for autumn this year leaves Eiji enclosed and away from the rest of the world in his room. There are no invites to take a stroll in the park, no bonfires to huddle beside, no jack-o-lanterns to hang around his backyard. 

To be more specific, there is no Ash. 

To be even more specific, there is no Ash in Japan.

If it wasn’t clear, there is no Asan Jade Calanreese in 520 Hamacho Street, Shimane, Izumo. 

Because Ash is thousands of miles away, in a country where their tongues are prone to forming words in English, rather than Japanese. He is at his brother’s house, a brother who had been considered dead until his letter had knocked at Ash’s door, a brother who had opened up his arms and his house for Ash halfway across the world. 

A brother for whom Ash had upped and left Japan, leaving behind old ice cream wrappers and bits and pieces of Eiji’s broken heart. His despondency manifests itself like an ever-present fog, filling up every little nook and crevice until his chest is constricted under its weight. 

It helps that Eiji is easily distracted, by the _swish-swish_ of the falling leaves and the flock of shorebirds making their way back home. His desk faces the window, and more often than not, the college applications on his desk will remain forgotten in favour of fiddling around with the settings on his second-hand camera. 

He will have attempted to do something productive, such as clean his room or file his papers, but that task proves to be much too daunting, for nearly every other object he finds reminds him of Ash.

A crinkled movie ticket, notebook full of stupid doodles that Ash liked to draw when he was bored, a strip of photo booth pictures from when they dressed up as Peter Pan and Tinker Bell, one of Ash’s ear studs that must have dropped off when he was jumping over the fence that separated their houses. 

Each time he finds something, he drops the item into the inconspicuous box lying at the corner of his room, and proceeds to stare up at the ceiling, fan slowly revolving as the clouds inch across the grey sky. 

Eiji knows he’s being unreasonable.

He’s not the only person who misses Ash, not if the weariness on Mr. Lobo’s face is an indicator.

And it’s not like Eiji doesn’t have any other friends who he actually likes, even though admitting that would unnecessarily blow up Yut Lung’s ego.

And Ash isn’t gone forever, only a few years as he finishes high school.

And it’s been more than three years, which means he’ll see him soon, so Eiji should suck it up and stop being a debbie downer. 

But that’s easier said than done, because when Eiji goes to dust his shelves or fold his duvets or shuffle through his records, his brain finds it much more entertaining to consider how Ash might have changed.

Perhaps he’ll have cut his hair.

Maybe he’ll wear contacts instead of glasses.

Or, for all Eiji knows, Ash will have finally outgrown Eiji, and now Eiji will be forced to call him Aslan and they will smile awkwardly at each other across the dining table at Ash’s house, and Eiji will be invited to Ash’s wedding, and he’ll end up staying at home and nearly drowning himself in sake and tears. 

Eiji has gone off on such tangents enough to know that when he reaches this point, it is best to write off whatever he was doing as a bad job.

It is such a day, when he hears, rather than sees, a truck coming up to a stop in front of his neighbour's house. (He's long stopped referring to it as Ash's house. God knows how much it hurt to correct himself again and again.)

The engine dies, and the sudden silence is so jarring that Eiji starts feeling a little uncomfortable. He's about to go back to his book when he hears the tell-tale wrenching of a truck door opening. Curiosity overwhelms him, and he hesitatingly raises his neck up. 

He doesn't blink.

Eiji's eyes stay wide open, trained on the golden haired figure stepping out of the truck.

The person bends down to pick up their duffel, swinging it across their shoulder and dusting off their hands on their thigh. They look up, and stare right into Eiji's eyes.

It's Ash.

It's been three years and five months and twelve days and Eiji's traitorous heart still goes aflutter looking at him. He goes still, and Ash’s eyes widen in recognition.

He pauses in his movements. A beat, then two, and Eiji quirks a hand in a half-hearted wave, that's more of a flap than anything.

He’s not sure if Ash can even see him, but then Ash sends a two-fingered salute and a grin his way. Even after dozens of letters and the odd parcel, it's pathetic, really, how a single smile can make him want to drop down onto his knees. 

Eiji sees him turn around and wave goodbye to the person driving the truck. He’s not sure what he expects, but he certainly gets a shock when a mess of sharp, purple hair, shaped like the jaws of a great white shark pokes out of the window. The man in question gives Ash a shout of “Later!” and revs his engine.

Ash himself has made his way to his old house, nimble fingers rummaging through his duffell as he presses his phone between his ear and shoulder. He slots a key into the door, movements as precise and ever, and pauses. 

Eiji quickly looks away, and steps out of his room, lest he get caught staring. He walks down, legs just this side of shaky, towards the kitchen, where his mother is scrutinising the ingredient label of the pasta sauce. She hears him stumble into the kitchen and looks up, eyes immediately zeroing in on his trembling fingers. 

"What's wrong?"

It's a testament to how well his mother knows him that she doesn't push, not at all. She stands next to him, thumb rubbing comforting circles on his hand, waiting for him to speak. Next to her, the boiling water bubbles, almost frothing over, but not quite.

It’s much how Eiji feels. He stands there, trying to reel his mind back in. 

Eiji goes through the facts, slowly. He’s never been the most logical, always preferring to use his heart instead of his brain, but there’s no helping it in this situation when he’s at a loss.

“Did you know,” he inhales, “that Ash was back?” The slightest look of shock flits across his mother’s face, but then her features school themselves back to normal, and she shakes her head.

“No, dear. I had no idea he was here. Was that….?” 

“Yeah.” Eiji doesn’t elaborate, and his mother doesn’t need it. She raises her arm, the one that isn’t occupied with stirring the pot, and Eiji follows, curving around her until he is enveloped. 

He’s much, much bigger and wider than her, but the safety that his mother’s presence brings is one of the few things that help to calm him down. His mother rubs up and down his arm, and Eiji breathes in and out, syncing with her. 

She doesn’t know the extent of their relationship, but anybody would know that they used to be joined together at the hip. That’s probably why she isn’t questioning him, but quietly offering her comfort instead. So Eiji accepts it, and considers what to do. 

(Unbeknownst to Eiji, a few days after Ash had departed, Eiji’s mother had come across a picture that seemed to have slipped under Eiji’s bed.

It was creased, in the way paper did when gripped tightly between fingers and palm. The ink at the back of the picture was smudged, the date that was originally written in ink blurring until the numbers are smudges of black.

The stark difference between the reverence that Eiji had for his photographs, and this particular one, had her curious. 

She flipped it over once more, analysing the picture. It’s of Ash, as almost all of Eiji’s pictures were. They seemed to be at a beach, Ash’s hair caught mid-motion as he shoots a soft smile at the camera. He’s light by the moonlight, it seems, pale skin glowing and fondness palpable even through the camera. 

Eiji’s mother considered the picture, nails picking at the skin of her thumb. 

She was worried, yes, when she had found out that Ash would be shifting away. For Ash, and for Eiji, because neither had spent more than a measly few days apart. To have nothing more than a rushed goodbye, and then disappear to thousands of miles away? 

It was hard, for both of them. But after looking at that picture, which was clearly held so dear by Eiji that he fell asleep clutching it every night, she thought that perhaps her son was actually going through his first heartbreak. 

So she tucked the picture under Eiji’s pillow, and stepped out of the room, shutting the door behind her. 

And if she called him downstairs in the middle of the night to steadily eat their way through tubs of rocky road ice cream as an old seventies chick-flick played in the background, then she blamed it on the menopause.)

The doorbell chimes, and Eiji snaps out of his thoughts. His mother glances at him, then gently removes her arm, gesturing towards the foyer. They both know who it is, and a quick kiss pressed to his forehead is the last form of comfort he gets before he opens the door and faces an eighteen year old Ash.

Eiji blinks, and takes him in.

Clearly, those years away did wonders on him. Ash has matured, face gaining sharp edges and jaw widening. His blonde hair has been tied up in a low ponytail, and there are piercings on both of his ears. He’s taller now, but still has the lankiness characteristic of his childhood.

But there’s a certain ease in the set of his shoulders, a confidence in the way he holds himself that wasn’t there before. 

His hands are in his pockets, and he smiles. “Hi, Eiji.” He doesn’t say he missed Eiji, doesn’t ask if Eiji missed him

(His eyes are still as green as ever. They are also still so, so beautiful.)

“It’s good to see you, Ash.” The words _i missed you, did you miss me, do you remember what we were, would you still want to…?_ Are on the tip of his tongue, but he holds them in and smiles back at Ash. There’s a sense of awkwardness lingering, not insistent but Eiji is still conscious of its presence. 

“Do you want to…. come over? I could use some help upacking.” Ash still fiddles with the edge of his shirt when he’s nervous, Eiji realises. It is this that finally makes him leave the last trickles of tension behind. Even if Ash had come back impossibly cool and collected, he’s still the boy that used to sneak into Eiji’s bed when he had a nightmare. 

Eiji allows his shoulders to relax, and grins at Ash. “Sure thing. Guess you’re still irresponsible, huh?” 

Ash laughs, and indignantly swats at his arm, curling his pale fingers around Eiji’s wrist tug him off to the house next door (Ash’s house, Ash’s house) and up to his room.

Eiji is zoning out while Ash chats on and on about all the things he has seen. He gets roped into cleaning up Ash’s room, only agreeing when Ash says he’ll treat them to icecream. It’s definitely too cold, so Eiji offers a switch to _yakiimo_.

They walk to the shop that’s just around the corner, falling into a comfortable silence. Ash hums tonelessly, and Eiji is swamped with a sense of deja vu. 

As he waits outside the shop, waiting for Ash to pay, he is struck by the fact that they are practically strangers.

But then he considers the way Ash grins at him, and the way his fingers encircle his wrist, and the absolute fondness that radiates off him. It gives him a flicker of hope, and he chews on his bottom lip till Ash steps back outside.

He’s holding both steaming sweet potatoes in one hand and failing to stuff the change back into his pocket with the other, and the nerves bubbling in the pit of Eiji’s stomach subside. 

He waits until they’re walking back to brush his hands against Ash’s, gently once then more insistently, until Ash gets the hint. He intertwines their fingers, just like so many times before, and they don’t talk about it. Eiji turns his a fraction, and sees the barest hint of red on Ash’s cheeks. 

He takes another bite of his potato, and for the first time in three years, thinks that autumn isn’t so bad after all. 

  
  



	4. bad days? they're nothing to me with you

_(i'm home.)_

This time, when they meet, Eiji is 22. He is clutching his Canon DS in one hand, and a steaming cup of cocoa in the other, because a lot of things may have changed over the years, but he still has a dislike for all things bitter.

Eiji is clad in that ugly purple parka of his, with the zipper broken halfway up top, and a gash along the inseam.

It makes him stick out like a sore thumb amongst all the sophisticated library-goers of this college, but it was either a new coat or dinner for the whole week. 

Eiji focuses on looking through his pictures for his graduation portfolio, swinging his legs back and forth as a crowd of giggling students cuts across the park in front of their library.

Even after all those years, it’s easy for Eiji to get lost in his pictures. As he swipes away on his screen, the pictures begin to become dated.

There’s one of Ash slumped over a pile of books, hair tousled and sticking up at odd ends. Eiji remembers the stress that Ash had faced when preparing for his entrance examinations, how he stayed up until daybreak to study and how he would only go to sleep when Eiji coaxed him back to bed.

There’s another of Ash covered in flour, a glare that’s all bark and no bite directed at Eiji. Zooming in to the corner, Eiji remembers how hard it was to clean up the aftermath of what was Ash’s attempt to bake a cake for Eiji’s mum. He giggles to himself, and swipes once again. 

It’s a picture of Ash and Shorter this time, from when they both went to a party thrown by his friend Shorter. Even in the dim lighting, it’s easy to make out his bright purple hair, with a hand thrown around Ash’s shoulder as they both shoot peace signs and throw their heads back, mouth wide open in guffaws.

A few more swipes and it’s Ash yet again, at the backseat of Shorter’s pick up truck. Eiji is momentarily stunned, because he doesn’t remember when this picture was taken. He knows they were on a road trip, and he had fallen asleep halfway.

He had thought he was leaning on the window, but the picture shows that his face is tucked into the crook of Ash’s neck, hands coming up to clench at his shirt. Ash is fast asleep, cheek pillowed on Eiji’s hair. 

Inexplicably, Eiji blushes. He remembers being shaken awake by Yut-Lung, who threw his camera at him and told him to wake up Ash as well.

Sing and Shorter had been giggling to themselves, but Eiji had paid it no attention at that time. He resolves to smack Sing the next time he sees him, and moves his fingers to swipe away.

Just then, a shout of his name alerts him to a person twisting their way through the crowd. Eiji cranes his neck and sees Ash waving to him, golden hair shining like a beacon in the winter sunlight. 

And when Eiji looks at Ash, he thinks of summers and springs past, of leaves fluttering with the push and pull of the wind, of stroking cool fingers on smooth skin, of secrets and giggles shared under a single duvet, of laughter and tears and so much fondness that their years were fit to burst. 

He thinks of their first kiss, lips stained red and sticky, of the way Ash felt in Eiji’s arms that autumn day; solid and real. 

He thinks of a journal hidden under the pile of clothes in his closet, one with creased binding and yellowing pages, one that is so full that it can’t be properly shut, one littered with with pictures of impromptu dinners and walks and summer festivals, one so saturated with Ash that an onlooker would think it belonged to him instead of Eiji.

He thinks of kisses pressed to the back of the neck, of waking up with their legs tangled together, of late night walks and of twirling on the roof while getting drenched in the rain. 

He thinks of how it must be fate, really, that they found their way to each other. 

He looks at Ash, who has a soft smile on his lips, halfway hidden by his scarf. He sees the first snowflake fall, sees it catch on the tip of his nose, thinks that this right here is where he is meant to be. 

**Author's Note:**

> kites are super fun u guys should try to fly a kite once in ur life 10/10 experience would defo do again
> 
> as always, thank you so much for reading, i hope you liked it! 
> 
> btw, my [twitter](https://twitter.com/dianxiaholic)😼


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